


Sinking

by ghostrunner



Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrunner/pseuds/ghostrunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>found, held, earthbound</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinking

The wine is heady and thick and the others are dancing around the cave and yelling, chanting. Michael has never felt so alive and so peaceful at the same time. 

Star is tugging at his arm, wrapped in her embroidered shawl like a child, or an old woman. She doesn’t need to pull him; he’d gladly go anywhere with her. 

He takes another swig from the archaic bottle. 

David is dancing around the rim of the old fountain, walking between lit pillar candles and old stubs. He looks at Michael as Star pulls him further back into the cave. His smile is oddly sweet and maybe it’s that which makes Michael wave the bottle at him, beckoning. 

\--

Star’s bed is enclosed by draping shawls and scarves and necklaces of shells. The firelight picks out metallic threads in the hangings and through the gauze and lace the candles in the cave shine like unfocused stars. 

He can still hear the others, whooping and laughing and calling to each other but they seem distant and disconnected from here, this moment, this world of torn silk and decaying lace and biker leather. 

Star is soft and light and wrapped in layers of scarves and jewelry and peasant skirts. She kisses him with her hands on his face and his head is full of the crashing of waves. His jacket slides away and he thinks, oh, right, David. 

He’s too drunk for surprise, or to pretend this isn’t exactly what he wants. David is arctic pallor and leather like armor and his skin is cool to the touch. 

Star draws him back down and David presses and Michael folds, down into the nest of blankets and shawls that is Star’s bed. Star light and sweet and silent beneath him and David’s weight on his back, murmuring enticements and promises and kissing them into Michael’s spine. 

Michael shifts, inexpertly, and Star draws in a startled breath and tips her head against his chest. He feels David’s hands – cold, strong, and with oddly long fingernails – curve around his throat. He turns his head far enough that they can kiss over his shoulder. Deep and messy and sharp. Their teeth click and David sucks on his lower lip, rough and indulgent and Michael knows his mouth will be swollen for days. 

Star sighs and strokes his ribs, her bracelet’s chiming. David presses him down and bites at his shoulder with surprising force, 

Outside the waves crash. The night whispers. There’s blood on the wind.


End file.
